There is a certain kind of “man” who refuses to give up the ghost of his potential for sex while trolling the bar Monday through Sunday. No matter how late it gets and, thusly, how significantly the potential for taking someone home with him dwindles, he still can’t seem to apprehend that he is leaving the bar alone.
He will ignore all attempts at sustaining any form of dignity by leering, slurring and offering to buy drinks to any woman who looks vulnerable enough to take the bait. But, truth be told, the type of “man” who is willing to opt for the type of woman leftover by the time last call rolls around is probably finding his soul mate–for the night. Particularly at Lucky Dog.